


The Official Quest Journal of Axelia Firesteel

by LittleMissTwinkleToes



Series: The Dragonborn Chronicles [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: F/M, Hero of Kvatch isn't very good at fighting, Journal, Novelization, Pining, Prequel to Blood of the Dragon, actually, first-person, she's pretty awful, this is essentially a diary, trouble with cultists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissTwinkleToes/pseuds/LittleMissTwinkleToes
Summary: My name is Axelia.  Originally, I'm from Falkreath, but... I discovered I had magic and I was told to leave my home.  Nords are notoriously suspicious of mages, there was no way they were going to let me stay with my new and uncontrolled magic.  But, I try to look on the bright side.  Now, I can try to gain entry into the Arcane University, one of the best places in all Tamriel to train as a mage.  Well, due to some unforeseen circumstances, instead of gaining entry into the University, I'm booked into a cell in the Imperial City Prison.  I thought discovering my magic had forever changed my life?  Well, what happened that night in prison changed everything irrevocably.<< This is a prequel to my Skyrim fic, Blood of the Dragon.  You do not have to read them in order.  They can be read separately. >>
Relationships: Female Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim, Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim
Series: The Dragonborn Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025220
Comments: 6
Kudos: 2





	1. 20th Day of First Seed, 3E 433

**Author's Note:**

> As it's said in the tags, this entire story is written in a journal format, so it's told in first-person. I hope that doesn't dissuade you from reading! Enjoy!!

20th Day of First Seed, 3E 433

I thought running away from my home in Falkreath to join the Arcane University in the Imperial City was the most brilliant idea I had after discovering my magic. I was an absolute idiot. In my defense, what happened wasn’t really my fault.

First, I need to start with why all of this started in the first place. Falkreath is a small, Nordic town in the south of Skyrim. It’s not rich in many resources, other than wood and stone. It’s surrounded by ridges and forests with no land that is useable for farming. Because of that, Falkreath’s citizens have to either maintain small gardens or barter for food, unless they have skill with a bow.

Since Falkreath is such a small town, news travels fast. Nords, by nature, are suspicious of things that are not like them. They don’t like any races that aren’t human and especially don’t like magic. Usually, if someone discovers they have magic, they are shunned from their community and locked in the Mages College of Winterhold.

Now, that’s not to say the Mages College is a bad place, it’s just not the best for a new mage. The Mages College has something akin to an entrance exam. Prospective students must demonstrate they know, understand, and can use an apprentice level spell. So, a new mage whose magic is still slightly out of control would be denied access to the college. The Arcane University handles this situation differently. It’s still tricky to get into from what I understand, but there is still a pathway for new mages to get the education they need. Instead of testing their skill at the gate, a prospective student must travel to each Mages Guild Hall in each city in Cyrodiil and earn a recommendation from the mage in charge. This way, a new mage can learn and grow in their spell work with the support of more advanced mages. I thought it the best way to learn how to use my magic and if I had to learn somewhere it would be the University. I wanted better for myself.

I discovered my magic by accident while hunting in the woods around Falkreath. I had set my bow down to skin the elk I’d hunted. Novice move. The blood had attracted a pack of wolves and they attacked while I was distracted. My bow was out of my reach and I had to react quickly in order to defend myself. The next thing I knew, the wolves were dead and I had fire in my hands.

The first person I told was my mother, the town alchemist. She revealed that her own sister had been afflicted as well -- an aunt I never knew existed. She knew what would happen if anyone else found out, so we decided to hide my magic for as long as possible. We lasted a week.

A group of bandits attacked the town while I was out hunting again. When I returned to town, the apothecary shop was on fire and my mother was fighting for her life against a man who was attempting to drag her away. My father was trying to fight through bandits to get to her. I couldn’t stand by and let them take her so I did what I had to do. I used my magic to save my mother.

Everyone saw what I did. My father was horrified: he looked at me like he didn’t know who I was. My mother told me to run. So, I did.

I made it to the border between Skyrim and Cyrodiil near Riften several days later and was stopped by Imperial soldiers. No paperwork, they said. Those two buffoons kept me from entering Cyrodil, kept me from entering the Arcane University, because I didn’t have some stupid travel papers. It’s not my fault I got mad. It’s also not my fault that since I had only recently discovered my magic that I may have lost a little control.

Anyway, they arrested me for destroying a wagon and dragged me to the Imperial City dungeons. I still don’t know why they took me there. After all, I had no paperwork, why let me in the country if they were going to bar me from it in the first place? It’s not like Riften was that far either. I mean, my sentence wouldn’t have been bad anyway since no one was hurt. Oh well, I will never understand those goons’ logic but I thought at least I was in Cyrodiil and could start my new life after I got out of prison. Wrong.

My first night behind bars, these warriors in fancy armor with fancy swords invaded my cell with none other than the Emperor of Divines-be-damned Tamriel. Some assassins had infiltrated the palace and killed the royal family, so the Blades -- as they later introduced themselves -- were attempting to get the Emperor out and to safety. Spoilers, it did not go as planned.

It turned out there was a secret entrance in my cell -- which was apparently supposed to remain empty. Some sort of clerical error put me in there, I guess. After the weeks I had, I did not expect this kind of luck. I honestly didn’t know whether to thank Stendarr or Nocturnal for this unprecedented fortune. I haven’t been on the best of terms with the divines, given recent events. Either way, I was not about to listen to the Blades’ orders and stay put after they went through the opening. Besides, the Emperor had stopped to tell me I was destined to help him. In my opinion, I was following the orders of the Emperor anyway so the Blades could stuff it.

I snuck behind them for a while, until they realized I was following them. They seemed resigned to having me join them, especially after the Emperor seemed so relieved I’d followed. For your information, I’m terrible at sneaking around, which I suppose is weird for a hunter. Honestly though, I was never a very successful hunter. That elk I shot the day I discovered my magic was a fluke. Usually, I step on a twig or trip or do something equally as stupid and noisy when I’m trying to hunt. But I digress.

The tunnel turned out to be some sort of Ayleid ruin and ended in a locked gate and dead end. We were already on edge from fighting off several assassins and had even lost a Blade Captain. I picked up her sword, so at least I had a weapon, but still no armor. I realized very quickly that I was only slightly better at swordplay than hunting. At least I knew which end of the blade went where.

I did notice that all the assassins use summoned daedric armor when they fight, which is unusual from most of the assassins guilds I’ve read about. That means -- at least to me -- that these assassins are from a different group entirely. They could be a new group, up and coming and hoping to make a name for themselves. Sorry, I keep going off on tangents.

It was at the dead end of the ruin that shit really got intense. I was left in an antechamber with the Emperor while the other blades went to fight off the assassins that had appeared in the room with the locked gate. The Emperor turned to me and told me he was going to die, that he’d dreamed of that precise moment and that I would save all of Tamriel by ‘closing shut the jaws of Oblivion.’

What in Oblivion do you say to someone when they tell you that?! I would argue this line was weirder than when he told me he’d dreamed about me. I guess it doesn’t matter what I could have said since he didn’t let me speak in the first place. He told me to find his last son and to bring him the Amulet of Kings so he could relight the dragonfires. He said that it was my destiny to stand against the Prince of Destruction. Yes, that Prince of Destruction. I have no idea what Mehrunes Dagon has to do with any of this, but somehow, the Emperor knew he was involved and that I have to fight against him. I don’t know how to accomplish that! How do you fight against a Deadric Prince?!

Okay, I still have time to figure that out. I hope. I just need to breathe and focus on finishing this entry. Whew, anyway. Not long after the Emperor shoved the Amulet of Kings at me (which is ridiculously huge, by the way), the stone wall behind him slid open and out rushed another assassin. I couldn’t do anything to stop the man. I raised my hands and summoned fire as quickly as I could, but by then, the Emperor had already been stabbed in the back and fallen to the ground. I unleashed my fire and the assassin died screaming, his summoned armor shimmering away as his life faded.

I knelt down to check on the Emperor, but he had already died, blood pooling beneath his cooling body. I didn’t know what to do. The Emperor had just died on my watch and here I was standing here with the Amulet of Kings. It would be just my luck that the Blades accused me of murdering him and I would be sentenced to death. So long freedom.

Thankfully, that’s not what happened. One of the remaining Blades came running into the antechamber and collapsed to the floor beside the Emperor. I explained what happened and what the Emperor had told me before he’d been killed. The warrior seemed to take it all in stride and suggested that I seek out the Grandmaster of his Order. This Grandmaster was a man named Jauffre who had served by the Emperor’s side for decades and now resided in Weynon Priory outside Chorrol. Since he spent so much time with the Emperor, he would know about any previously unknown, illegitimate sons the Emperor may have had.

After that, I was free. He sent me on my merry way, allowing me to keep the sword I’d lifted from the Blades Commander with the promise to bring it back to Cloud Ruler Temple. Not that I knew where that was, but I promised anyway. I was not about to roam the Imperial Sewers without any sort of weapon. And boy, did I need that weapon. There were rats, mud crabs, and -- believe it or not -- goblins living in those sewers! I would have died having to rely on my still uncontrolled magic.

Thankfully, I made it out with my skin, but without a clue as to where to go. As you know, I am not a native to Cyrodiil. I have no idea where Chorrol is in relation to the Imperial City. I also wasn’t sure how big a risk it was to ask anyone in the city. I didn’t know if I was a wanted criminal or, since I had just escaped prison, no one knew to look out for me. But, I didn’t want to take that risk.

I walked along the shore of the island the Imperial City rested on, hoping to find a bridge I could use and then follow signs to Chorrol, maybe ask a traveler which direction I needed to go. I guess I really didn’t need to worry about that so much, in hindsight. It was dark by the time I found the bridge and luckily for me (again with the luck!) there was an inn on the other side. I decided to stop there for the night and here I am, writing in this brand new journal. I had picked up enough thrown away gold in the sewers and ruins to pay for a room, this empty journal, and dinner, in case you were wondering how I could afford any of this.

I guess the journal was a bit of a luxurious purchase but… with everything going on, I want something around to prove who I am and what I have to do. I will fill this journal with the many adventures I’m sure to have. Maybe one day, I can send it to my mother, so she knows that I am okay.

Although, that could just make her worry more.

Anyway, I have to get up early in the morning and I’m tired after everything I went through today. I need my energy to get to Chorrol. I’ve heard it’s only a day’s walk from here, so that’s good.

Axelia


	2. 9th Day of Rain's Hand, 3E 433

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axelia makes it to Kvatch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't gotten any comments saying how terrible this story is, so imma keep posting. Here is chapter 2. Enjoy!

9th Day of Rain’s Hand, 3E 433

The last 20 days have been a strange combination of extremely boring, enlightening, and life-threatening. Let me start where I left you off.

I made it to Weynon Priory the evening after staying at the inn outside the Imperial City. Jauffre was understandably suspicious (and by suspicious, I mean he threatened my life because he believed I killed the Emperor). Eventually, he settled down enough to let me explain what happened and present the Amulet of Kings to him. He seemed at a loss for words at first, but then shook his head with a small smile on his face, saying quietly, “sounds like something he would do.”

Finally, he mentioned knowing of the Emperor’s illegitimate son, Martin; that the Emperor had asked him to put him somewhere safe as a baby and watch over him. Apparently, that somewhere safe was with a farmer living outside of Kvatch. I wouldn’t be surprised if that ‘farmer’ happened to be a Blade soldier in disguise, but that’s just a theory. Martin became a brother in the priesthood at the Chapel of Akatosh there. The kicker was, he didn’t know who he was, what kind of blood he had running in his veins.

With a new destination in mind to find Martin, I stayed at the Priory that night and set out the next morning. Jauffre made sure I was outfitted for the journey, since it would take several days to reach Kvatch. I was given simple iron armor (really just a breastplate with a pair of leg guards to strap to my leather pants) and provisions packed into a stachel to last me the rest of the week.

I had expected this to be a simple journey to find Martin. I’d meet him in the chapel and convince him to come with me to Weynon Priory and give him the Amulet of Kings. He’d become emperor and relight the dragonfires. Everything would be fine.

I was wrong. Amazing how often that’s been happening of late.

I could see from a distance that something was wrong. I had been walking for two days after leaving Skingrad when I could see smoke on the horizon. It was billowing and black and took up enough of the sky that I thought it was actually a storm brewing. A day and a half later, I’d made it to an encampment part way up the hill to the city. They were displaced townspeople, scared and angry. They told me their town was attacked a couple days previous. A great glowing gate the color of fire appeared outside Kvatch and daedra poured out of it. Apparently, they were the only ones to make it out of the city and panic settled in my stomach.

When I asked about Martin, whether he made it too, the others said their were some townspeople that had made it to the chapel to seek shelter but there were still daedra within the city walls, still a gate -- though smaller -- sitting open, blocking the way into Kvatch and allowing daedra through to wreak more havoc. Fear settled next to the panic in my stomach. I was afraid that I was too late, that Martin was killed. And the daedra? This must be how Mehrunes Dagon was involved, but I still didn’t understand why.

I thanked the townspeople and though they warned me not to continue up the path, I had to get into the city. And in order to get into the city, I had to close the gate to Oblivion.

The closer I got to the top of the hill where Kvatch lay in ruins, the weirder the scenery got. Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning flashed in the quickly darkening sky. Veins of red glowed from the firmament, casting a sinister hue to what was once a calm beautiful blue day. If that wasn’t signal enough to what I’d find at the summit of the hill, then nothing would have sufficed.

There was a contingent of Kvatch City Guards, led by a man named Savlian Matius, that dispatched any daedra that came through the gate at the top of the path. They set up a barricade to keep any daedra from getting past them and attacking what was left of the townspeople. It was a good defensive plan, but they were past the point of needing to go on the offensive. There wasn’t a way to close the gate from this side, at least not any mechanism or switch that I could see, and waiting for the gate to magically close on its own was not a feasible option. So, I proposed that I, along with a few of the remaining Kvatch guards, venture into the gate and find out a way to close it for good.

The ground around the glowing gate was scarred and scorched. Stone from the walls of the city lay crumbled around the area, but somehow the walls still remained solid. The gate hummed when I approached; a low, magical, vibrating thrum that set my teeth on edge. With teeth gritted, I walked through the swirling fire of the impossibly stable portal and observed the other side.

I don’t know what words I could use that would accurately describe the land beyond the gate to Oblivion. Desolate. Barren. Evil. The land was dry and cracked. Lava lakes pushed at the shores, casting a red glow over the black, scorched earth, catching fire to anything too close that was able to burn. The air was heavy and thick with the heat, making breathing a challenge. Even the plants were hostile. If anyone got too close to them, they either spouted noxious gas or whipped at the offender.

Altogether, it was a bleak and nasty place and perfectly summed up the Prince of Destruction. What I saw there gave new meaning to the name of the realm he presided over: the Deadlands. If this was what awaited the world, I was not about to have any of it. I promised myself then and there that I would do whatever I could to keep the world from turning into that nightmare.

The few soldiers that volunteered to venture into the gate with me complained the entire time. At least they had some sort of sword training. The only blade I’d handled before all this started was an axe for chopping firewood. One of them even remarked that’s how I treated my sword. On top of that, my magic was still slightly out of my control. It didn’t always go where I wanted it to go, but at least none of my companions caught fire. Eventually the others got tired of my ineptitude and loaned me a bow and arrows. I performed much better than with either the sword or magic, thanks to my years of hunting. The problem was that most of the enemies in this realm of Oblivion wanted to fight at a distance, which meant using the bow allowed them to fight how they were best. I needed to learn how to use the sword. When and how I would fit that into my schedule of saving Cyrodiil from a daedra invasion was anyone’s guess.

Somehow, we managed to make it to the top of the tallest tower with minimal casualties. We lost one man to a dremora then another left to help a comrade get back to Mundus who had been taken prisoner when all this started. That left me with two capable soldiers to fight the last few dremora.

Height was not the only thing that made this tower stand apart from the others. At the center of the looming structure was a fiery beam of light that shot skyward. We followed it up to the top, where it ended as it flowed into a strange spherical stone. The light emitted a similar hum to the gate, though much louder and more jarring. Honestly, it was more a screech than a hum. Once the dremora were killed, the three of us approached the floating, spinning, glowing stone cautiously. Everything else wanted to kill us in this realm, why not this weird stone, too?

I don’t know what made me think this was a good idea, but I reached out to grab the stone. The other two soldiers grabbed my arms to stop me, but as soon as my fingers closed around the ridged surface, white light exploded and I was temporarily blinded. The screeching grew to such a volume that it was all I could hear, my screams drowning in the intense noise. When everything grew quiet and I could finally see, we were back outside Kvatch with a smoking ruin of a gate behind us. The stone was still clutched in my hands, cool to the touch and humming with magic.

I tucked the stone into the satchel, feeling my legs start to shake. Matius came running up as my legs gave out, much to my embarrassment. I had just made it through Oblivion and came out unscathed, yet I was the only one that allowed their fear to manifest so physically. The others didn’t seem to care, though. They laughed in relief, patting me on the back, lifting me to my feet, and thanking me profusely. I didn’t close the gate alone, but they only seemed interested in the fact that I was the one that took the stone from its perch. Fighting our way through the daedra to get to the damned thing apparently didn’t matter.

Matius graciously gave me a few minutes to gather myself before asking if I’d help begin reclaiming Kvatch. I agreed of course. Martin was still trapped in there, alive hopefully. I wouldn’t know unless I went with them and fought my way to the chapel.

The rest of the guards went in with us. With the Oblivion gate closed, there were no daedra continuously attacking the barricade, so there was no need for a constant watch. Besides, they were obviously angry and sought some sort of vengeance for the attack on their home. So, we all charged through the gate with weapons drawn and ready to kick some more daedric ass.

Kvatch was worse than I imagined. Houses lay in ruined heaps. Smoke curled from scorched timbers, creating a gray haze and making the air acrid to smell. Body parts lay strewn about the debris filled street, some hanging from the mouths of monsters as they meandered through the rubble. I don’t know if it was worse than the Deadlands, but if not, it came pretty damn close.

When we banged the gates open, all the daedra in the area paused and looked up. There were fire-throwing scamps, clanfear, and magic hurling dremora. They all ran at us, throwing fire or lightning as we made our way into the city. With a battle cry, we met them in the street for a free for all melee. I hacked at whatever I could hit, throwing fire when necessary.

Finally, the area grew quiet. We lost a few guards, but all the daedra were dead. Matius led us to the chapel and I was eager to put all of this behind me. Kvatch was a nightmare I didn’t ever want to revisit.

As Matius spoke to the guards sequestered inside the chapel, I took a look around, hoping to find Martin. There was only one priest on duty from what I saw. He knelt next to a woman who was laid out on a bedroll, hands hovering over her leg as he emitted a glow from his palms. His dark hair hung over his face as he focused on healing the woman’s leg. I approached him and waited for him to finish his task, trying not to distract him.

When the man was finished, he stood and turned to face me, blue eyes curious. Honestly, his face took me by surprise. I could see elements of the late Emperor in his features -- maybe what the old man might have looked like younger -- but he was still not what I expected. He had a strong jaw, adorned with a few days worth of dark stubble. His lips were curved into a small smile, creating small crinkles in the skin at the corner of his eyes. Dark circles clinging to the bottom of his eyes belied how tired he was. His countenance held an earnestness, even while exhausted, that was so unlike the enigmatic Emperor. Those blue eyes of his were piercing as they gazed at me with concern. I was struck temporarily dumb by him, words fleeing from my mind like birds, only leaving the thought ‘wow, he’s handsome,’ behind in my useless brain. He asked me if I was injured and needed healing. His voice was deep and rich, like velvet or chocolate and was thoroughly distracting. I don’t know how I heard him or how I registered the words, but I was able to discern their meaning and shook my head.

It took an embarrassingly long time (it felt like ages to me) to get my mind in order so I could ask if he was Martin. When he answered in the affirmative, I felt both relieved and anguished. This was the last son of Emperor Uriel Septim VII and here I was, sent here to retrieve him and I couldn’t get over how good looking he was! Oh boy, was I in trouble.

When I told him he was in danger and that he had to come with me, he scoffed at me. Admittedly, he was in Kvatch for the entire siege, so he’d been in danger for days. Furthermore, he didn’t believe me when I told him he was the last Septim, not that I blame him. He grew up thinking he was the son of some farmer, not the most powerful man in all Tamriel. It took some convincing, but eventually he agreed to come with me. He seemed in a state of shock as he gathered his meager belongings and bid farewell to those who’d found safety in the chapel with him. I decided to give him some space as he processed what all happened, what all he’d learned.

I knew it would take us about a week to get back to Weynon Priory and I guess I could have written this part during those days but I felt a little awkward pulling my journal out in front of Martin. Most nights during our travels, we simply camped out under the stars. We stayed at two inns the entire time, one of them during our supply stop in Skingrad. All of those nights together afforded me little privacy for writing everything down.

During that week of walking Cyrodiil together, I got to know Martin a little better. I discovered he had a history with daedra, that he’d been part of a cult before joining the priesthood. He wouldn’t tell me which Daedric Prince he’d been devoted to but he learned much of daedric magic during that time and expressed his concern at the existence of the Oblivion gate that allowed for the destruction of Kvatch. According to him, there is a magic barrier that protects Mundus from those that dwell in Oblivion. No portal can possibly remain stable for so long and yet… it happened.

When he asked me how I closed the gate, I showed him the stone that I took. He called it a sigil stone, something he’d heard was used to open portals. Again, they were not supposed to remain stable and he hypothesized that a considerable amount of magic was used to keep it open and that the sigil stone must have been the conduit. Because of all the magic that went through it, it was imbued with special enchantments that could be applied to weapons and armor. He offered to study it when he had the opportunity.

Not long after his admission to having a history with daedra, I decided to tell him about my misfortune of discovering my magic, why I had started to doubt the Aedra had my best interests at heart. Martin was sympathetic and offered to show me some spells and tricks to controlling my magic. We spent the rest of the journey to Weynon Priory practicing spells and honestly I feel much better about using my magic in combat. He taught me healing and shield spells and spells to detect life. I can hit a target nine out of ten times with my fire using the focusing tricks he showed me. If I focus long enough, I can even make the fire stronger. He also taught me how to summon a scamp to help me fight my battles. Now, on top of being attracted to the man, I’m indebted to him for teaching me so much. I’m still nowhere near an apprentice mage, there is still so much for me to learn, but now I don’t feel like I’m stumbling in the dark.

The night we approached Weynon Priory broke the happy, hopeful spell I was under. After a week of travelling and learning with Martin, we arrived to find the Priory under attack by the same assassins who killed the Emperor. I did my best to protect Martin with my limited abilities but he proved to be such a proficient fighter that I ended up just trying to keep up with him. We found Jauffre in the chapel fighting off two simultaneously, using the same kind of sword I’d gotten from the fallen Blade captain. When he dispatched the last two assassins, he looked up at us in relief before dashing out of the building to check on the Amulet’s safety.

Of course, as soon as I rescue the heir to the throne, we lose the Amulet of Kings. Martin can’t light the dragonfires without it. And, since the assassins obviously knew to search for the Amulet at the Priory, it was no longer a safe place to keep him. So, we hopped on the horses staying in the stables and galloped off into the night toward a city called Bruma, headed for a place called Cloud Ruler Temple. It was the stronghold of the Blades and likely the safest place for Martin in all of Tamriel.

Much of that journey was spent in a state of anxiety that we were being pursued, so we kept the horses at a fast pace and only stopped for a few hours rest. What would have taken five days on foot, ended up only taking two.

Coming to Bruma felt a bit like coming home. Unlike the bits of Cyrodiil that I had seen so far, Bruma is cold and often covered in snow due to its location in the Jerall Mountains, the mountain range that borders Skyrim. It is the farthest city north and the most populated by Nords of any city in Cyrodiil. With it still being so early in the year, spring is only just beginning to battle the failing winter for dominance but would not be in full force for another month.

To my surprise, we bypassed Bruma entirely, instead climbing a mountain path that led farther into the Jerall Mountains. At the summit of the peak we climbed stood an imposing structure that could only be Cloud Ruler Temple. It was so high up, clouds obscured the city of Bruma at its base but somehow I could still see the spire of the White Gold Tower in the Imperial City from here.

Anyway, that’s where we’ve been the last day, recuperating from our flight from Weynon Priory. I know that doesn’t sound like the events of 20 days, but let me explain. Traveling to and from Kvatch from Weynon Priory took two weeks, so fourteen days. Add the day it took me to get to Weynon Priory from the inn I stayed at outside the Imperial City and the two it took for us to get here makes seventeen days. One day added on for rest totals eighteen. I noticed the discrepancy in the days, given today is in fact the ninth of Rain’s Hand, and asked Martin about it. He said it was probably all the time I spent in Oblivion, since time there doesn’t work like time here, it moves slower. So I lost two days closing that damned gate.

Figures.

Axelia


	3. 30th day of Rain’s Hand 3E 433

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axelia takes some time to learn how to use a sword properly before heading out to the Imperial City to start another leg of her journey.

30th day of Rain's Hand 3E 433

So it turns out, the dragonfires were what kept the magical barrier between Mundus and Oblivion up and running. Who knew?

Traditionally, when an Emperor dies, the dragonfires go out and would need to be relit by the heir, by someone who possesses the dragonblood passed down through the Septim line. There is some sort of ceremony that goes along with the lighting of the fires that symbolizes a sort of coronation. That means Martin has to relight the dragonfires, but needs the Amulet of Kings to do it. The very amulet that was stolen from Weynon Priory by the same assassins that killed the Emperor and his family.

Martin, Jauffre, and I have come to the conclusion that the assassins are in fact a daedric cult devoted to Mehrunes Dagon. They knew that by killing the Emperor and his heirs that the dragonfires would go dark for the first time in centuries and that the barrier between Mundus and Oblivion would be weakened. It’s why the Oblivion gates are possible. I still don’t really know why they would want to subject Tamriel to something like this, but usually the logic of extreme groups like this one isn’t very logical.

After our day of rest at Cloud Ruler Temple, Jauffre decided to make me a Blade as well, since I had done my job and safeguarded Martin all the way here. He said that the sacred duty of the Blades was to guard the Septim line and that I would continue to do so once made a Blade. I couldn’t really argue, afterall. I fully planned to help get the Amulet of Kings back so Martin could become Emperor and restore order. Once I was officially a Blade, I was given a set of their armor (which I honestly found a little too heavy) and started training using a sword and shield.

While I trained, I usually spied Martin walking around the courtyard or the ramparts of the temple. That in and of itself was a little peculiar, since he’d told me he enjoyed reading, which in this weather was best done inside. Occasionally, I would catch him watching me, which only made me embarrassed. I knew I was shit at wielding a blade, but that was why I was training in the first place. He never said anything about my skills, which made me wonder why he would watch in the first place.

Even though I was embarrassed to have him watching me fail at using a sword, I still found myself seeking him out at dinner to eat together. We would talk of daedra and magic, of Cyrodiil and politics, of books we’d read, of the places we’d travelled or wished to travel. I found myself relaxing in his presence and after weeks of feeling like I had to be on guard, it was a relief. To be clear, my attraction to the man has nothing to do with me seeking him out for companionship. I just… like how I feel when I’m around him, I guess. And he’s the only one I really know at the temple.

Maybe it’s a good thing I only ended up able to stay and train for a week. Jauffre asked that I go meet Baurus (who I had apparently met while trying to escape prison over a month ago) in the Imperial City. Baurus had written and said he’d found a lead on the group that stole the Amulet of Kings. So, I packed my satchel with food, my journal, and a map of Cyrodiil, donned my simple iron breastplate and leg guards, and made my way to the stables to ready the horse Jauffre lent me at Weynon Priory.

Martin made sure to bid me a proper goodbye at the gate, gazing at me with those piercing blue eyes of his while I held the lead of my painted mare so she didn’t wander. He told me to be careful and to make it back in one piece. Then, he hesitated, as if he was trying to carefully pick his words, which wasn’t terribly unusual since Martin is a thoughtful man by nature, but this felt different. Finally, he said, “I want to thank you for taking all of this on. You didn’t ask for any of this responsibility, yet here you are, working harder than anyone to make a difference. I know we haven’t known each other for very long but I want you to know, you’re not alone in this. If ever you need me, let me know.”

Those were the nicest words I’d heard since I left my mother behind in Falkreath. With my eyes swimming with tears, I put my hand on his arm and replied, “you didn’t ask for this either. I wish you could have continued living your life and that I had not dragged you into this mess.”

He only shook his head in response, a small smile curving his lips before he added, “I don’t regret you coming for me.”

Gods. I knew if I stayed a moment longer, I would not have been able to move my feet, so I offered my own wobbly smile and turned to my horse. Our fingers lingered as my hand dropped from his arm, though that might have been a figment of my imagination. Quickly, I mounted my horse and made my way down the path. I turned my gaze back before the temple was out of sight and saw Martin still standing at the gates. By that point, my face was hot enough to melt snow before it landed on my skin. Martin was the future Emperor of Tamriel and here I was, pining after him! He was probably just being kind and didn’t intend to stir up any of my feelings. I have no business expecting anything more than friendship from him.

Two and a half days later, I found myself back in the Imperial City. Having a horse to ride certainly made these journeys quicker. I headed into the Elven Gardens District., looking for the boarding house that Baurus wanted to meet at. It didn’t take me too long to find it: Luther Broad’s Boarding House was on the main road through the district, after all.

When I opened the door to the establishment, I was surprised to see how empty it was. Excluding the bartender, there were only two patrons. Baurus was the only Redguard in the room, seated by himself at the bar. There was a man sitting in the corner, surreptitiously watching Baurus every so often. I approached the Blade, but before I could say anything in greeting, he growled at me to take the seat next to him and to keep my mouth shut. At first, I thought he was pissed Jauffre sent me to meet up with him instead of a more competent Blade. That was until he told me under his breath that the man in the corner had been watching him. He suspected the stranger was with the Mythic Dawn, the daedric cult who assassinated the Emperor. It was finally nice to have a name for the nefarious group of killers. Mythic Dawn was certainly better than “Those Crazies that Killed the Emperor and His Sons and Are Attempting to Unleash Mehrunes Dagon on Tamriel.”

He had a plan to draw the man into a trap and all I had to do was make sure Baurus was followed into the basement of the boarding house by the suspicious stranger. So, that’s exactly what we did and it turns out the suspicious stranger was indeed a member of the Mythic Dawn. He summoned daedric armor and everything. The only thing he was missing were the signature red robes.

Baurus asked me to check the body for anything strange while he made sure the building was secure. The only thing out of ordinary I found on the assassin was a huge, weird looking book called the Mythic Dawn Commentaries Vol 1. When Baurus saw what I found, he suggested I head to the Arcane University and talk to a woman named Tar-Meena. She was apparently an expert in rare books and would know what book this was as well as potentially where to find others.

When I pointed out that only mages who had earned recommendations from all the guild halls could gain entry to the University, Baurus just shrugged his shoulders and said she was the best. I asked if he could set up a meeting outside the University and he shook his head. Apparently, Tar-Meena was in the middle of some research and would not be leaving the University Library in the foreseeable future. Gods, this man was irritating.

Baurus just offered me a knowing smile and said, “didn’t you want to join the Arcane University? Now’s your chance to get those recommendations.” I’d forgotten I told him that while we stumbled through the Ayleid ruin underneath the Imperial Prison, trying to keep the Emperor safe. When I argued that earning those recommendations would take time that we may not have, he answered that he would keep investigating while I was gone and send any information to the temple. With Martin safely ensconced at the temple and the amulet no closer to our grasp, the only thing I was racing against was the potential for new Oblivion gates opening. I hadn’t seen any since Kvatch, but I just had a feeling that wasn’t going to be my last one.

So, after only a few hours in the Imperial City, I set out to start earning those recommendations. I decided to start with Chorrol, since I knew it was the closest to the capital. I made it to Chorrol after midnight, and the gates were already closed, so I had to wait in the stables for daybreak to enter the city and approach the guild hall.

When I arrived, I spoke to the lead mage about joining the guild and learned what was expected to earn the recommendation. It was an easy task, honestly. There was a woman -- Earana -- that was loitering outside the guild hall. All I had to do was find out why she was there. I don’t know why Teekeeus -- the lead mage of the Chorrol guild hall -- wouldn’t talk to her himself, but I went out there anyway. Turned out, she wanted a book that I had to hike a mountain for. Teekeeus told me under no circumstances that I give it to her. Apparently, it was some sort of super magical book that was dangerous in the wrong hands. He also told me not to open the thing (not that I was even able to anyway, it’s like the book was cemented shut. Why that’s useful to anyone, I have no idea). So, I hiked the mountain, grabbed the book, and gave it to Teekeeus. Easiest task I’ve completed since coming to Cyrodiil, to be honest.

I decided before I arrived at the guild hall that I would learn all I could from the members during my stay. Chorrol’s guild hall happened to specialize in summoning so I spent an extra couple days there after earning my recommendation to learn a few new summonings. I could now summon a flame atronach and a dremora, both of which would help me immensely when I ventured back through an Oblivion gate.

Again, I’m sure that at some point, I will have to close more of those damn things. Call it a hunch.

After Chorrol, I decided to head to Bruma and travelled along the same route Martin, Jauffre, and I escaped down only two weeks previous. I took a more sedate pace, since I wasn’t fleeing for my life this time. I really wanted to enjoy the scenery now that I had the time to. It took three days to get to Bruma, but at least I arrived at the city gates before nightfall.

Bruma’s guild hall offered another easy task to earn my recommendation. I was to locate a missing member, a man named J’Skar. When I asked around, Volanaro -- another mage in the guild hall -- said he’d help me find J’Skar but that I had to do something for him in return. He wanted me to steal a spell book from the lead mage’s quarters as some sort of demented prank. I didn’t feel right participating in this prank, but it appeared that was the only way to complete the task for the recommendation, so I did it. I had to learn a lockpicking spell to get to the spell book in question -- which turned out to be the basic Manual Spellcraft. Why such a basic spellbook was locked in a desk, I have no idea. I’m sure there are several copies on the bookshelves downstairs in the entryway.

For completing this task, I demanded that not only J’Skar reappear (he’d been invisible the whole damn time!), but Volanaro had to teach me new spells. He agreed, though he did mutter about it being boring and he just wanted to have some fun.

Unlike the Chorrol guild hall, Bruma did not have any mages who specialized in a specific school of magic. That meant none of them offered in depth training in one school, but I was able to learn a few more basic spells to add to my repertoire. I spent another two days there after earning my recommendation, learning and practicing those new spells. I left there with new frost spells to cause damage during battle, a spell to summon a skeleton to help me fight, and a few new shield spells. All in all, a productive couple of days for me, magic wise.

Since I was already in Bruma, I decided to head up to Cloud Ruler Temple to squeeze in a few more days of sword training. I knew once I left Bruma, I wouldn’t be back for a while, so this was my chance. I also thought it a good idea to let Jauffre know that in order to continue our investigation into the Mythic Dawn, I had to take time to earn recommendations in order to gain entry to the Arcane University. My visit had absolutely nothing to do with me wanting to see Martin again. Absolutely nothing.

Axelia

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave kudos and bookmark so you can be notified for updates! If you have any feedback, please leave it in the comments. I look forward to hearing from you all!!


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